


Put Out the Fire

by EmAndFandems



Series: of names and holiness [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, You know what that is? Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: The first time saying Aziraphale's namedoesn'tburn Crowley, he's not expecting it.





	Put Out the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of people indicated that they wanted this and so here it is. Title from the Queen song of the same name.

The first time it doesn’t burn him, Crowley’s not expecting it. It’s three o’clock on a Tuesday and the shop’s been closed for hours. The angel’s just said a truly awful pun with that  _ particular _ look in his eye purely to hear Crowley groan, so he obliges, and it slips out before he knows what he’s said.

_ “Aziraphale,” _ he says, exasperated. In the next moment, Crowley realizes. Abruptly.

He swallows and the smirk he was sharing slides away. He sits up. The angel leans forward,  _ What is it? _ on his tongue and no heat against Crowley’s. No prickling pain. No fiery reminder.

Crowley stares at the ang—at Aziraphale. Does he dare? He does, hesitantly: “Aziraphale.” Almost a question, and no responding sting.

Another question: Is he forgiven? Has he moved upward in some grand celestial reckoning? Or—Crowley refuses to acknowledge the alternative explanation; he closes his eyes so Aziraphale cannot detect the tell of tattletale tears threatening to be born. Before Aziraphale can worry, Crowley revives his grin and makes a gift of a strangled sort of laugh.

“Aziraphale,” he repeats, stronger now though his breath is resisting regulation and his heart is banging obnoxiously. Aziraphale beams sunglow-bright; he doesn’t even know what’s making Crowley happy but the very fact of it is enough to make him happy too, and Crowley has never loved him harder.

He glories in the impossibility of it. Aziraphale  _ angel angel angel _ is good, undeniably; this is the one thing in the world of which Crowley is certain, the truth of which he has never felt the need to doubt. And so he cannot believe that he is worthy of Aziraphale. Yet this blissfully painless, wonderfully blameless lack of sensation… it’s sensational.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.

Crowley smiles. “Aziraphale.” He’ll never tire of saying it.


End file.
